The smoke and the coal
The scent and the heat
The sting to the skin
The glow of red touches the meat
Let's do it again. Again and again.
The red turns black, then it crumbles to ashes
My skin turn rosy, to the sting that is tragic
I breathe in the smoke, in my outdated fashion.
You said you won't fall, but look at what happens
When you start to hurt and fall down, and get out of balance.
YOU ARE READING
Shorts, Poems, and Imagines
Poetry"It's exhausting to fight a war inside your head every single day." -Micki Ann
